“How dark?”
He chuckled. “No one will see anything, princess. You can sit right over my lap,” he whispered against the edge of my lips.
“That sounds very, very illegal,” I said, all breathy and quiet. “But I could be persuaded.”
Bauer kissed the edge of my lips, just a tease of what he was capable of. “Is that why you wore a dress?”
“No.” I moaned when his hand flirted with the hem of said dress, tickling the outside of my thigh. “But … I think we could make the most of the fact that I am.”
He hissed in a breath when I split my legs around his hips and kissed his bottom lip soft and sweet. “I love date night.”
“All it took was a CPR certification and a sundress, eh?”
Bauer laughed, swatting my butt and then curling his fingers through mine so he could help me off the counter. “That’s it. I’ve always been an easy man to please.”
With a burst of laughter, and the ache in my chest easing, I followed Bauer out of the bathroom and realized for the millionth time just how amazing this life of ours was. It was amazing, because it was ours.
Volume 3: Floored
FLOORED
LIA
The first time I saw Buckingham Palace, I had a surprising thought.
This is bullshit.
Not the palace. The palace was great. It was beautiful, all stately and whatnot with gleaming gold fleur-de-lis on each black iron fence post that protected the royals from us mere mortals.
No, the thing that was bullshit was me.
For two weeks, I’d been in the place I’d dreamed of for as long as I could remember. Great Britain, with its monarchs and history and architecture and ugh, just everything. And as I sat on the steps across from Buckingham Palace, surrounded by people snapping selfies and chattering on with their fellow travelers, I was lonely. I missed home.
How freaking annoying was I?
I should have been ecstatic. I should have been on cloud nine. Ten, even!
After snapping a picture of the building behind me, I sent it off to my twin sister, Claire. She wanted to see everything. And if this had been a normal trip, a week or two to sightsee, she probably would’ve ditched her snowboarding-god boyfriend to come see the Brits with me.
But instead, I was here by myself because my sightseeing was a package deal with time spent studying at Oxford for the Michaelmas term, which ran from the end of September to December. I’d arrived a few weeks early to settle in and see all things before my researching began in earnest. It was what I’d dreamed of as I started my Masters in English Literature, this type of immersion in British culture and education with a rock star professor whose work on the Bront? sisters was akin to a religious text to me.
Yet I was the sad sack wandering around London, staring glumly at the beautiful sites.
As I tucked my cell phone into my front pocket, it started buzzing.
Claire.
“Hi! What are you doing?” I winced after it came out because even to my own ears, I sounded cringe-level excited to be talking to someone.
My sister laughed. “Calling you because you’re at Buckingham Palace, you bitch.”
“I was.” I stepped to the side so a group could pass me as I meandered through Green Park. “I’m walking through the park just by it now.”
She sighed audibly. “And here I sit, working on my monthly budget. Which sister is cooler?”
My chest ached at the sound of her voice. “How’s life? “
Claire laughed. “We talked two days ago.”
An eternity in twin-land, especially when—prior to my trip over the pond and her moving in with her boyfriend Bauer—we lived together.
Taking a seat in the grass, I tipped my face up to the sun. “I know, but I miss knowing everything that’s going on. No one calls me with random updates anymore because of the time difference.”
“Well,” she drawled, “it’s still early, but so far, I’ve made my bed, cleaned out the litter box, and now I’m sitting down to work on the budget. Yesterday, I went grocery shopping and got on FaceTime with Logan. He couldn’t figure out something on his computer, and he refused to ask Paige for help because she told him he wouldn’t be able to figure it out on his own.”
I smiled at the mention of our older brother and his wife, the people who raised us. “See? I’d know this shit if I was at home.”
She was quiet, and I knew that kind of quiet from her. She was thinking. Analyzing. And I knew I’d admitted too much. Again, total bullshit.
This—the mopey, wish I was home, missing the mundane normality—wasn’t me. It was the opposite of me. And if Claire thought I was undergoing a personality transplant just as I was starting the biggest educational opportunity I’d ever had, she’d worry herself sick.
So, I did a mental reset and flipped the switch.
“And I’ll know it again when I get home,” I said brightly. “I told you about the gowns we need to wear to eat at the dining hall, right?”
There was a smile in her voice when she answered. “Yes. You told me about the gowns.”
“Three-course meals at a frickin’ college dining hall. This is the kind of posh shit that only the British would think up.” I tilted my head. “Or the French.”
“Are you bored, Lia?” she asked.
I pinched my eyes shut. Twins were the worst sometimes. “No?”
“Are you not sure?”
Flopping back on the grass, I stared up at the towering trees. “What makes you think I’m bored?”
“Well, you haven’t started your class yet, and you’re sightseeing alone, and you’re having FOMO for the life you lived for the first twenty-two years of our life. That usually means you’re bored.”
“I can’t be bored,” I cried. “I’m in
London
! I’ve got this adorable flat in Oxford, and the whole town is adorable, and the campus is amazing, even if they have really strict rules about not sitting on the grass, and how on earth could I be living a life where I can come spend the day in London because why wouldn’t I and somehow still be bored and missing the normal life I left behind.”
Claire laughed under her breath. My cheeks burned a little hot at my outburst, and I looked around to make sure no one heard me. I couldn’t even handle the idea that some lovely Brit who might become my best friend for the next couple of months would hear me and think I was just another crazy American.
“Lia”—she sighed—“promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don’t be so consumed with what you’re missing that you stop paying attention to what’s in front of you. Okay? Go eat a scone. Or that beans and toast and bacon thing you told me about.”
I smiled. “That’s for breakfast.”
“Fine, then go get a beer in a pub and enjoy your time. Flirt with a cute British boy. Then go back to your flat in Oxford and get a good night’s sleep. Don’t you meet with Professor Atwood tomorrow?”
My fingers plucked at a blade of grass. “Yeah. I’m so freaking lucky she’s letting me do this.” I watched some clouds drift across the sky, a dark enough gray that I frowned. “You’re right. I’ll go get some food.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.